Boots marching, marching, marching
Through two entire nights,
Marching to war,
marching to glory,
incorrectly perceived,
misunderstood.
Hopeful they arrive at the walls,
shovels digging, digging, digging,
through two entire weeks,
and the cannons are set,
aimed,
fired.
No room for flabby men here,
not food enough,
room only for disease,
entrenched in the skins of men.
In a few days it is over,
The indignant stench,
rising towards the stars,
but never getting there.
They marched to glory,
incorrectly perceived,
misunderstood.
3 comments:
Nicely done. War is never pretty.
well done you've captured war correctly.
Nicely expressed, war from a different era!! Nowadays war has taken a different turn, but it never was a nice word!!
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